


Breathe Into My Mouth

by cosmotronic



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light Dom/sub, Sex Toys, Smut, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmotronic/pseuds/cosmotronic
Summary: She won't break.And tonight she wants to show Nicole how much she can take, how much she wants to take. How the power of their love is not a thing to be feared or handled like quite such a delicate thing.Tonight, she decides.





	Breathe Into My Mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigerlo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlo/gifts).



> So I wrote this smutty thing as a little birthday treat for the lovely @tigerlo
> 
> Who is not only the most wonderful writer and deserving of all the gifts and praise in the world, but also one of the best friends a person could ask for. Thanks buddy <3
> 
> Everybody else, I hope you enjoy my debut fic for this great fandom!

 

Nicole’s hands are always gentle.

 

Everything between them and everything about their relationship is gentle. Gentle kisses, gentle touches. They make love, gently. Even in the headiest seas of lust and the most urgent swells of passion Nicole is never rough, never more than the most tender of lovers.

 

Waverly loves that Nicole is gentle because it is also new and she doesn’t want to rush this experience. It’s wonderful. Enchanting. To explore such a different type of partnership, to peel back intriguing layers of love and run her fingers over each new and exciting contour. It’s discovery, new firsts dawning. And that special sort of awed hesitance that comes from simply knowing that these firsts could also be the last firsts they’ll have.

 

And it's a step and a mile apart from her other partners, boyfriends tall and muscled and confident in their strength. They were kind and they loved her in their way and she loved them in a way. But this time all is in stark relief and all is so very different, down to the grip of slim fingers on her skin and the smooth caress of lips and soft, soft skin.

 

Nicole’s is a considerate gentleness, but her touch is never uncertain because she knows that Waverly wants her. They never stall. It’s only the hesitant step to lead that slows their motions.

 

Waverly knows that Nicole holds herself in check, can sense it in eyes pressed shut and swallowed groans and flushed cheeks and trembling hands. Waverly doesn’t think there is such a thing as being _too_ considerate, but sometimes Waverly wishes Nicole would unchain her lust and want and need a little more, and take her hand and pull her to a step faster and more dangerous.

 

And not be so gentle.

 

She won't break.

 

 _Tonight_ , she decides. Tonight she wants to show Nicole how much she can take, how much she wants to take. How the power of their love is not a thing to be feared or handled like _quite_ such a delicate thing.

 

So she sets her plan and it doesn’t take much more than an outfit screaming _sex_ and some candles; the rest is up to her and she only has to wait.

 

The anticipation builds until it’s thick, an alteration in the atmosphere. And when Nicole walks in the door she must sense it because she slows and her eyes flick to Waverly only once and then dart around her and above her and behind her. And then again to Waverly and into her face and her eyes and her soul and she's searching, Waverly knows, just in case.

 

Eyes taking in Waverly’s body, her stance, her chosen attire, the low flicker of candles lighting the scene. Listening, but there’s nothing above the thump of a heartbeat. Inhaling the scent of wax and the curl of perfume in the air and that heavy, heady thrill of waiting. Collecting, collating.

 

Nicole wears a tiny frown for her now, so she smiles back easily. Bright and reassuring and so very _Waverly_. She can see the tension lifting from her partner and a small blush form as the realisation clicks into place and the scene starts to coalesce about them, and the frown becomes a smile, and so they can begin.

 

There’s nothing and nobody else here; it’s only what they themselves bring to the moment.

 

Waverly slinks forward, each step echoed in the low thrum of her heart and the tiny jump of anticipation in her chest. She’s bold, and she hopes that she has the right of her lover because she doesn’t think she can reverse the sultry play of her hand, now.

 

She comes to a halt just inches from the other. Takes Nicole’s hands in her own, runs her thumbs across the back and feels the small slender bones beneath, feels the life in the smooth skin and warm blood. She draws those hands to her and places them on her own hips, and Nicole lets her and bends her tall body a little closer.

 

Nicole is tall. Waverly is used to being the smaller partner but it’s still a lovely and warm and encompassing feeling to have a lover strong and steady over her. To ease into their arms and tilt her head up for a kiss, safe in that embrace.

 

So, Nicole’s hands are on her hips now and it’s a light touch and _gentle_ , of course. One fingertip on each hand brushing the skin above the line of her waistband, electric contact in a narrow inch.

 

It’s a tiny taste of what is to come. It spurs sparks to the far reaches of her body, sparks in her own fingers and sparks catching in her chest and sparking possibilities behind her eyes. They know this powerful dance well by now. Waverly leans up for a kiss and Nicole meets her with fire and passion.

 

Lips, scorching and hungry. They’ve been apart less than ten hours but there’s a small part of her brain, instinctual and impulsive, that urges Waverly to devour her lover as though it is the first time and the last time.

 

And in some ways it is, because although Nicole still slows and paces herself in that controlled and familiar way, tonight Waverly is having none of that. She breaks the kiss and it leaves them panting.

 

Nicole looks at her and there’s a question half-formed in her eyes. Waverly looks beyond it to the potent mix of love and lust liquid beneath the surface, a fiery drug she craves. She needs Nicole to know she doesn't have to hold back. Not ever, but especially not tonight.

 

So she slides to her knees before Nicole.

 

She places her hands on the starched and pressed material of Nicole's uniform. Curls her fingers around twin strong thighs and brings her head close, eyes cast down. It's incredulous to think she would ever want this, ever want to bow and bend and offer herself so brazenly before someone. But the hammer in her chest and the rapid soar of her arousal attest otherwise. The warmth in her belly, coiling, uncoiling, desire showing her this is the way.

 

And it had to be Nicole, sweet and gentle Nicole. Who holds back not because she fears her own strength and her power over Waverly, but because it's all so new and different for her too and perhaps she just wants to pace herself.

 

And relish each and every moment.

 

It could _only_ be Nicole. Who shivers under her touch, blood racing and breaths deepening almost to a groan.

 

Instinct and reaction, enjoying each and every touch.

 

And as Waverly slides her eyes up, lazy with lust and lit with questions, she sees the answers in Nicole’s intense gaze and the confirmation she craves. And the openness there, too, showing that if she pushes even a little Nicole’s careful reserve will fail.

 

It’s almost like balancing, two forms pressed together and holding the other upright. Waverly knows it will be exhilarating to tumble now, together.

 

Nicole’s hands have fallen by her sides, kept in readiness until now. Now one drifts to Waverly’s head, to stroke her hair with that gentle, gentle touch.

 

The position is perfect and her own hands stroke too, circling over cotton and wool and over warmth radiating through. Over leather and buckles and over the cold hard steel of police-issue handcuffs, lingering. Possibility, intent.

 

Nicole’s breath hitches and there’s the shape of a _no_ in her exhale and Waverly moves on.

 

Her small hands rest on Nicole’s belt again, teasing the fastening.

 

She presses her face to one thigh, kisses her lover there. Hums a question and Nicole seems to melt and soften and succumb, and the next breath is a _yes_.

 

Her hand, resting so lightly a moment ago, twists into Waverly’s hair. Not tight, but a clear indicator and Waverly answers with a hidden smile and a slow series of kisses across Nicole’s thighs and hips, tasting the warmth.

 

Nicole’s stance alters. Only slightly; it would be imperceptible to any other. Her legs a little wider apart, her knees braced and hips forward. It’s such a tiny shift, but potent with meaning and when taken with the hand on her head Waverly knows the power behind it.

 

How Nicole is slowly letting herself need. How she is realising the intent of Waverly’s offering, Waverly’s submissiveness in this encounter. How she will soon enough let herself _take_.

 

Waverly’s kisses turn wet, open-mouthed, insistent against the dark blue cloth and Nicole’s fingers start to move. A small nudge, a tug barely worth mentioning except for the desire and direction behind it, easily focusing Waverly’s attentions.

 

Waverly follows the motion, kissing and humming little affections into the spread of her lover’s thighs. She slides her hands up to cup Nicole’s behind, pulling them together.

 

Nicole’s hips jerk and the hand in Waverly’s hair twists _tight_ and Waverly gasps and Nicole stutters. It’s an apology but her fingers don’t unclench, Waverly notes, humming her muffled approval.

 

The heat is palpable, arousal trapped behind frustrating layers of clothing. Waverly loves Nicole in her uniform, loves the symbolism of power and protection and especially she loves the way it hugs her girlfriend’s body. But right now it needs to come _off_.

 

Her hands scramble to the belt buckle, sure of intent but clumsy in practice and she giggles, a breathless flutter. Nicole smiles down with a quiet reassurance, _take your time_ , and she inhales deep and concentrates her effort.

 

The buckle is loose and Nicole’s pants are loose about her hips and Waverly pauses then, for only half of a heartbeat before shoving the material rather unceremoniously down those long, smooth legs. She presses her lips to soft skin; knee, thigh, higher, higher.

 

Nicole’s underwear is plain, sensible. Not that the officer doesn’t know how to put on a show for her lover, or make an effort; but this is day-to-day Nicole, no-frills and to the point. And completely unexpecting of Waverly’s insistent attentions. Waverly kisses across the thin material and there’s heat burning through and evidence of arousal damp against her lips and filling her air.

 

Her hands twist in the black cotton, to slowly slide it down past Nicole’s knees. Nicole’s stance is strong, but her legs tremble and her joints nearly buckle when Waverly resumes her kisses, now shameless on bare, hot skin.

 

The first touch of Waverly’s tongue is a test, a taste. Although they’ve done this before and Waverly is adroit and quick to learn, this position is new and it takes a moment for her to find the angle, the pace.

 

And find it she does, neck bent up and hands on her lover’s spread thighs. And Nicole _groans_ , and gasps, and her desire runs over Waverly’s eager tongue and her body pulses with arousal and it’s all the evidence Waverly needs.

 

Waverly’s own body pulses to the same rhythm, mounting and warming between her legs and it’s all she can do not to break away from Nicole and release her desire and her want into the air. Instead she pushes her face closer and moans it into Nicole’s flesh. Nicole’s body shudders and the fist in Waverly’s hair tightens, an encouragement, an acknowledgement and a signal of praise and Waverly feels it in her chest and in her belly and below. Reactions feeding each other, a feedback loop, a closed circuit where it’s just them, them and their actions.

 

Her, on her knees. Her lover, proud above her. Perfectly encapsulating the dynamic they have fallen into, that Waverly has orchestrated so well so far. Her role is not meek, it’s not demure, but it is a clearly delineated, subordinate _choice_.

 

She’ll make Nicole come like this and Nicole will enjoy it, the dominance of the position. It won’t take long. Nicole’s hips are already rocking, pushing into Waverly's mouth, taking her pleasure with less of a care than her usual softness.

 

And then Waverly will ease back and let Nicole set them firmly to the rest of their evening. She’s already imagining it, even as she works her tongue and her lips more ardently. Frantic now, to her goal.

 

Nicole’s fingers flex and lock and tug Waverly’s face a little tighter into her pleasure, at the crux of trembling thighs. She’s close; low-pitched moans and profanities mixing with the anticipation and the final, impassioned wrench of her hand and jerk of her hips.

 

Warmth flowing then, and twitching shivers under Waverly’s tongue. Waverly slows, savours it.

 

She sits back on her heels, face up and eyelashes fluttering. She practised it in her mind, until she could predict exactly how the sight of her breathless, lips red and chin slick, would affect her heated lover.

 

Nicole rolls her head down, pale skin flushed and mouth a little slack and eyes unfocused. Her chest is heaving and it takes her a moment to control the tremors in her limbs. Then her lips break into a smile and she takes in Waverly’s appearance, her patient posture and pleased expression, and her face shines.

 

Her hand, twisted tight in Waverly’s hair, eases its grip. Strokes cramped fingers over the tangled strands, down to cup Waverly’s face.

 

A moment of tenderness. Then Nicole smirks, and pats her cheek smartly and her eyes turn hard with a twinkle of wickedness and Waverly _exults_ inside. Smiles and turns her lips into Nicole’s palm before rising to her feet as smoothly as she can. Stands before her lover, and waits.

 

Nicole waits too. A heartbeat's indecision before her hand drops to Waverly’s collar, one finger dancing along the low-cut line of her top and hooking the material. A little tug and another smirk. _Off_.

 

Waverly moves back, moves to comply.

 

Nicole steps out of her constraining clothes quickly, shoes and pants and underwear kicked aside. Settles against the doorframe to watch with arms folded across her still-buttoned shirt. No half-dressed ridiculousness to the look, only intense sexuality as her eyes darken and her face turns enraptured.

 

It’s no seductive or slow striptease, in fact Waverly can’t get her clothes off fast enough under Nicole’s eager eye. Tugging her tight top up, up and off. Cursing her flushed and heated skin as the material sticks and her arm becomes tangled and then the memory of their first encounter presents itself front-and-centre in her mind. Her and Nicole, a love story told across the bar top at Shorty’s; wet shirt and blushes. There’s a soft snort from Nicole’s direction as she makes the connection too.

 

But that was then and this is now and now and it’s like a whole new world. Now she’s stood in front of Nicole with her chest bare and heaving, short skirt teasing, mind and body certain. Her centre aches with arousal. She’s not wearing underwear, and she knows that Nicole knows it.

 

Nicole devours Waverly with a look, predator keen, and then launches herself across the distance. She kisses harsh and hungry with passion, tasting herself on Waverly’s lips and pulling her close and pushing, pushing. Waverly half-stumbles backwards and Nicole moves with her, walking them together all arms and legs and lips a jumble.

 

Waverly's legs hit furniture. She’s turned around, quickly, firmly, pushed face down into the side of the couch, and this is where Nicole’s height really counts for something. Her long body pressed flush against Waverly, hip to hip. The slight rough scratch of Nicole’s shirt against her back and their bare legs touching. Lips at her ear, butterfly kisses and playful nips and a low growl. _Stay_.

 

Nicole moves away, out of the room and Waverly can’t see her but she keeps her head down and her eyes forward. Only her straining ears able to follow Nicole’s movements. Out to the hallway, a rustle of clothing and the low metallic sounds of a gun being made safe and secured and a front door locked tight, because Nicole isn’t completely bereft of her sense.

 

Yet.

 

The methodical normality twines with anticipation, makes moments feel like small eternities. Waverly keens. But Nicole doesn’t return right away, instead the sounds fade as she moves further into the house. A drawer opening somewhere; Waverly doesn’t dare to hope but she wishes it is _that_ drawer, in _their_ bedroom.

 

The steps finally return Nicole to her and there’s a tiny _mmm_ from her lover, a hum of approval breathed behind her. Waverly warms and flushes head to toe and the ache between her legs grows more. And when she arches her back and lifts her hips a little, it’s instinctive _need_ driving her.

 

She _needs_ Nicole to take her now. She’s been good, she pleased Nicole and she waited. She _needs_ Nicole to fuck her.

 

And she’s going to get her wish. Fingers electric on her skin at last, drifting on her thigh. Pushing her skirt up over the curve of her behind with a sure touch and the smallest scratch of short nails.

 

Fingers between her legs, clever fingers flirting and working their practised magic.

 

Tips of those clever fingers at her entrance, pausing like a statement. A smirk she can’t see but it’s there, burning into her naked back.

 

Lips trailing down her naked back too, wet tongue leaving a delightful shiver in its passing.

 

Then nothing, tongue and touch gone as Nicole abruptly stands and it’s all she can do not to cry out at the loss and the disappointment. A whimper escapes her before it can be bitten off and she presses her face down, down into the unforgiving material of the couch.

 

 _Shh_.

 

Nicole’s touch returns and it’s almost _rough_ , ten fingers gripping her hips tight.

 

Waverly feels it. _Yes_.

 

The toy pressed against her but not pressing into her. A pause, waiting for a nod or a breath or the motions of a needy body or a plea or anything, _anything_ to assure Nicole that Waverly really wants this. It’s a necessary endorsement. Nicole must know that she wants it, that she’s been craving it since she first drew the map of this encounter, but even a Nicole let loose and unrestrained is always _her_ Nicole and there’s a point Waverly cannot push her beyond. Her Nicole will never not ask, never not check. And that’s okay because it only takes a heartbeat to check and a heartbeat to scream _yes_.

 

Nicole takes her consent like a bound beast set free. Animal heart pounding and lithe muscle working in concert, wordless elation. Digs her fingers deep into ready flesh and willing muscle and pulls Waverly back into her even as she thrusts forward.

 

Waverly winces and gasps. Follows it with a deep moan born of her very bones.

 

The toy isn’t particularly large; they both agree that skill outweighs sheer size and _god_ , Nicole is skilled. Intuition guiding her motions, experience lending her confidence. Nicole’s ease and familiarity with the act had bothered Waverly at first; the disparity between their experiences whittling her nerves during their first, tentative encounters.

 

It’s silly but it still sits there, in the back of Waverly’s mind. The frustrating possibility that _maybe_ Waverly’s inexperience is what holds Nicole from expressing the full force of her desire.

 

It’s silly because it’s clear Nicole doesn’t care about any of that. For Nicole, love and desire and simply being with her partner is everything. Notches on a bedpost mean nothing, an occasional fumble is cause for warmth and soft laughter, not disappointment.

 

Besides, Waverly is a fast learner and sinfully inventive, bringing Nicole to toe-curling pleasure from the first night. It’s silly to think Nicole would not encourage her _education_.

 

But _damn_ , Nicole is in a whole other league. She’s so good at this.

 

Waverly shudders and relaxes, lets herself feel the sensations stacking higher. She’s bent down low with hips tilted up and tall, lithe Nicole is the perfect fit behind her. The toy hits her deep and drags against her inside, slow to start and just the right stretch.

 

A handful of thrusts, Waverly whimpering when Nicole’s hips meet her own and still. She’s so ready; wet, waiting, _aching_ for more. She tries to rock back, to set the pace.

 

A huff, a silent and teasing laugh in response and an even slower withdrawal. The tip of the toy remaining inside her; it takes a second, it feels like forever. Then Nicole slams herself forward and Waverly falls to pieces.

 

Nicole fucks her hard. There’s little finesse to the fast, firm thrusts but somehow it’s absolutely perfect, eager pressure over every sensitive nerve ending. She's slick on the toy and on her flesh and on her thighs but there's still a little burn inside, delicious friction.

 

Loud moans start to circle about them. Waverly knows it’s her own lungs and lust making the lewd and needy sounds but she’s floating apart from everything. Everything but the feel of the shaft pounding between her legs. Nicole isn’t holding back now and it’s just what Waverly wanted, lust overriding the urge to think, to stop or slow or consider.

 

A sudden mental image of _them_ assaults Waverly, then. Her, bent over with face pressed down and hips pushed up. Nicole, lust personified behind her, driving into her shaking body with powerful thrusts and fingertips firm. She imagines Nicole’s face, too, breathless and red and twisted with want.

 

The imagery is powerful, impactful, grabbing at her and sending her consciousness spiralling where her body is already heading. A course with no return. Pressure in her mind and between her legs. A near loss of control, orgasm building.

 

Her legs shake, her moans grow louder, more urgent, less coherent. Her cries stop being _Nicole_ and _yes_ and _more_ and _please_ and become shapeless sounds of need. Reactions, driven from her as air by Nicole’s relentless rhythm.

 

Then the rhythm falters, telegraphing a change. Nicole shifts and tenses, pulling Waverly back and up into her next determined thrust. Then again, again, easing Waverly upright and leant back into Nicole’s chest.

 

The thrusts become shallower like this, the motions inside her more acutely angled, the drag _so_ pleasurable. Waverly sees infinity sparking so close with every nudge of the toy within her, thinks if she can only get a little _more_ she can hurl her needy body into the starlight abyss.

 

 _More_ comes with Nicole’s breath panting hot on Waverly’s neck, her shoulder, tickling her ear and blowing at sweat-damp strands of hair.

 

Words in her ear, too, strained exhalations praising her, calling to her, imploring her. They are both so _close_ ; Waverly can feel Nicole’s stammered heartbeat and the shake of fatigue.

 

And a touch, fingers brushing against her clit. Nicole has barely even touched her there, all this time, and Waverly’s nerves cry at the sudden additional contact on her over-sensitive flesh. Her body jerks both into and away from the twin pleasures, almost too much.

 

She’s on the brink, driven by instinct, senses failed.

 

Waverly lifts one hand from where it has been clawing at the couch, claws now behind her, grasping, _needing_. She finds the flesh and bone of Nicole’s hip and sinks back into the embrace and lets herself be carried away.

 

She comes first, though there is only a breath between them. The pleasure hits her with blinding and deafening force. Waves of it, out to her fingers and her toes and washing over every sense.

 

She thinks she’s screaming, knows she’s lost. Clenching and shuddering and spilling out warm and wet about the toy pressing deep and delightfully thick inside her.

 

And _Nicole_ , lips and teeth at her shoulder. Nicole, pushed so tight against her, skin to skin, pleasure to pleasure, shaking out her own groans as the waves hit her too. She grinds into Waverly, takes and takes and takes. And it’s a miracle she can stay standing but she doesn’t stop, rides Waverly hard through the last swells of orgasm, desperate, determined, until at last she cries out Waverly’s name and sinks her teeth deep into her lover’s shoulder, hard into the bunched muscle.

 

It’s sharp and unexpected on top of everything, and Waverly explodes into another orgasm, intensity bursting out over the still-swirling maelstrom of the first. She cries and calls out her unashamed pleasure as her lover takes her, claims her and it’s everything she wanted and more.

 

White heat becomes welcome low warmth, brief moments stretched long with release as Waverly slowly comes back to herself and to solidity.

 

How they haven't already crumpled to the floor in a spent heap she isn’t sure, but Nicole is pressed safe and tight against her, sweat sticking their skin. Hands soft now against her, soft over fingertip bruises. Open mouth gasping against her shoulder, desperate gulps of air and _Wave_ , _Waverly_. Little snatches of praise and reassurance, a lifeline.

 

Waverly isn't lost and she finds her voice, pitched low and seductive and stronger than she expects.

 

 _Thank you_.

 

It’s wicked, pressing on wishes and desires only just given voice but Waverly knows she has her lover made when Nicole groans and pushes hungry lips anew against her broken flesh.

 

Waverly masks the wince; Nicole will no doubt berate herself for the bite, later. It’s not like anything they’ve ever done before, not like anything Nicole would ever let herself do before. There will be a conversation to come, but all Waverly can think of is how much she enjoyed the sudden sear of pain and even more the intent and _implication_ of the mark.

 

 _Mine_.

 

The thought sparks a fresh flicker of desire. Exhausted as she is, Waverly smiles and lets the sensation burn through her, embers still glowing. They aren’t done yet.

 

The toy is hilted in her, and Waverly takes a moment to enjoy the simple fullness before she nudges her hips. Pats Nicole gently where she can reach. Nicole takes the hint and eases their bodies apart, withdraws carefully.

 

Waverly quivers a little at the slow loss, her body aching in memory as she turns in her lover’s arms. Their kiss is tender on their lips, soothing after the rawness of passion. Nicole's arms encircle her waist and hold her close and she can feel their staggered and stuttering heartbeats slowing into a careful cadence.

 

It’s languid and easy. Nicole is normally soft with wonder after they make love, kisses Waverly down to earth until they can wrap themselves up in each other and drift; soft, warm, pillow talk and cuddles. It’s heaven, normally. Normally Waverly would want for nothing else.

 

But there’s a small flutter of unspent lust in Waverly’s body, and a flood of endorphins giving her breath. Adrenaline surging on the back of their voracious coupling. Waverly can feel the toy hard against her hip, trapped between them a little awkward and uncomfortable. A reminder and an impetus. They _aren't done yet_.

 

She can’t help the sly curve of her mouth and she pulls away to give Nicole the full effect. Smirking, eyes cast with a wicked shine, she grasps the slick silicone and strokes. Runs her hand along the length and licks her lips.

 

The switch flips and the gear shifts and Waverly wishes she'd known it would be so easy. Nicole’s eyes squeeze shut as she gasps an agonised _fuck_ and she’s shaking with control, tight muscles screaming, over-exerted.

 

This is Nicole undiluted and this is Waverly intoxicated, and the burn that brings sends cravings through Waverly’s aching body. She needs more, _more_ before they fall into the familiar comfort of their bed and soft, contented bliss. She murmurs something in the thick air between them, not even words but it’s punctuated by a tug on the toy and Nicole’s hips move with her and the world tilts.

 

She stumbles and Nicole barely catches her. She is tired and trembling and Nicole’s chest is still sucking in air, expression slack, limbs faltering. For a moment she considers. Maybe they should head to bed after all, take things slow. Waverly’s already got more from this evening than she ever imagined, as much as she hoped and dreamed, and Nicole’s satisfaction too is palpable. To fall asleep in each other’s arms now, aching and content, would be perfect.

 

Then her thigh bumps the couch again. Or that. _Perfect_.

 

Waverly nudges Nicole, turns them both until Nicole is in the correct, unassuming position. And then she shoves her lover, two hands on strong shoulders. Nicole goes down, but there must be some element of everyday Nicole still there beneath the exhaustion and the arousal. Some instinct or training burnt deep, muscle memory, because she is fast and pulls Waverly easily down with her, twisting to take the brunt of the fall. The cushions _oomph_ and Nicole does too, breathless once again as she stares up at Waverly.

 

_Oh._

 

Waverly stares back. Doesn't stop to think, doesn't break eye contact. Lifts her hips and reaches between them to steady the toy still strapped tight and standing proud, and sinks down in a smooth motion.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

It doesn't matter which of them utters the word, they both share in the sentiment. Waverly looks deep into Nicole's eyes, through desire and love and the fog of fatigue, settles her hands on Nicole's shoulders, and starts to ride.

 

It's less energetic than before, when Nicole had been railing her beyond the ability to think. Still, the slow and irregular movements of Waverly’s hips soon have her quaking and gasping on the couch. She's done this before with a partner and her muscles remember the dance, but the position is new to them and it's incredible. She rocks down, slow and firm, enjoying the angle and the exploration.

 

Nicole is staring, unfocused gaze dragging down her body to where they join and it's like a shot of adrenaline. Nicole shudders, groans and her eyes roll back up as her own hips jerk. It’s almost too hot to breathe and her thighs burn with the effort, but Waverly moans her approval and pushes herself down harder, faster, and together they slip into a rhythm.

 

Her arms burn too, after a while, and she tries to lock her elbows to keep her leverage but she's shaking and then she's collapsing forward into Nicole's chest. Nicole holds her, pulls her tight and thrusts up into her without pause.

 

It's more familiar like this. Waverly tastes the closeness like a wine, strong and heady and smudging the edges of her senses. Nicole's eyes, blackened lust only inches away. Nicole's panting breaths, benedictions in her ear. Nicole’s body arching and the friction of the toy across her slick and sensitive flesh once more sparking pleasure into fire deep inside.

 

She won't last long, never meant to. But it's the kiss that does it, open mouths firm, devouring. The dull hurt of teeth raking along her bottom lip, tugging and bruising. Waverly screams into it, silent and shaking as her orgasm hits and her body flies apart in Nicole's arms.

 

She sobs as she comes down, overstimulated and awed. She's spent.

 

Nicole strokes her back, a tender touch. Grounding her, collecting her trembling pieces. Whispering little reassurances, the little nonsenses Waverly needs. Slipping out of her and from under her, discarding the toy and shifting their bodies into an intimate embrace on the narrow couch.

 

Long minutes lost in a comfortable drift, until the air cools over their sweat-soaked skin and their shudders turn to shivers, turn to tiny pricks of gooseflesh.

 

Waverly has never felt more loved and it's this quiet and gentle moment that soothes her sore body and settles her senses. And the unashamed need they have each displayed and how well they match the other, want for want. And the self-control and the hesitance is simply awe and everything, _everything_ that Nicole does is a declaration of love.

 

All of it Nicole, _her_ Nicole. Her Nicole both soft and strong, who asks and who takes and who gives without question.

 

Waverly is slipping, satiation a heavy blanket. She mumbles her own love into Nicole’s breast, asleep before her lover’s heart can skip its beat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope you all had fun with that. Comments and feedback mucho appreciated folks!
> 
> And feel free to hit me up on tumblr @cosmotronic87 if that's your thing :)


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